


A Pair of Wings

by LastHope



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen, Two Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastHope/pseuds/LastHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every story has the chance for a different ending.  This story is no different.  Maleficent alternate ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pair of Wings

_All stories have a chance for a different endings.  Happy ones, sad ones, bad ones.  All it depends upon is one person’s actions…_

All it takes is one missed chance, one missed _door_ , to change the outcome of a story.  And as I found out, one person’s death could have been prevented by a discovery made earlier.  Far earlier.

Today is the two year anniversary of the death of the Evil Faerie, Maleficent.  Her name is forbidden within the walls of the castle and throughout the town.  But here, on the outskirts, near the barbed thorns that separate our land from the Moors, there is no one to hear her name.  No one but I.

Maleficent was not evil, not in the sense that Father, that King Stefan, portrayed her as.  After all, she had been my Faerie Godmother.  That means she couldn’t have been all bad.  I don’t believe that anybody truly is completely evil.  Everyone has a bit of good in them.  Faerie Godmother did.  After all, she had been the one to place the curse on me, but she had also been the one to lift it from me.  If she had been completely evil she would have not had a reason to lift the curse from me.  She would not have wanted to.

That night, two years ago, when King Stefan had set his men on _my_ Faerie Godmother, she used the last of her magic to transform Diaval back from the dragon she had made him back into the raven he once was so he, at least, could escape with his life.  And he did, escaping before King Stefan went and took his sword to Maleficent’s neck and relieved her of her head.  He didn’t know, but I had watched the entire thing, having escaped the guards who had tried to take me away from the battle.

From henceforth that day, _my birthday_ , was known no longer as Princess Aurora’s birthday, the day she escaped the sleeping spell.  No, from that moment, that day was known as the day that King Stefan slayed the faerie Maleficent, and was decreed a royal holiday to celebrate her death.  Her name was thus banned, and except for this day, she is all but forgotten in our Kingdom’s history by all.

By all, but me.

Faerie Godmother never received a proper burial or a grave of her own, so I made her one, here, on the outskirts of town by the barbed thorns.  Whenever I am lonely, or need to get away from the castle, I visit her here, and talk to her.  I always visit on the anniversary as well.  Those days, Diaval comes with me.

Diaval is still wanted by King Stefan and his army, but it is terribly difficult for them to find one specific raven out of hundreds, and they can’t possible kill all the ravens.  However to amend for that King Stefan has decreed a bounty for all deaths of the people of the Moors.  Lucky for them, Faerie Godmother’s thorns still stand, making it very nearly impossible for anyone to come to or from the Moors.

A raven caws behind me.  It is Diaval, letting me know he’s arrived. Turning to face him, I see that he’s perched quite comfortably on one of the thorns, wings outstretched, as if gesturing like a human.  Sometimes I feel as if he misses being human, misses being able to be a variety of different things at the snap of one person’s fingers.

“Hello to you too,” I tell him, reaching out to stroke his beak.  “It’s been two years now and I still miss her terribly, don’t you?”

Diaval caws, and makes a motion with his wings that could almost be taken as a shrug, before fluttering up to my shoulder.  He caws once more, this time while gesturing towards the castle.

“You want to go to the castle?” I ask him, and he caws again, and nods.  It’s a remarkably human gesture, but rather unsurprising to me. “Why would you ever want to do that?”

Diaval’s answer is to take flight from my shoulder and start heading towards the castle.  Laughing at him, but secretly worried for him, I swiftly follow him.

As we reach the steps of the castle, Diaval caws once more and flies higher, towards my bedroom.  It’s not the first time he’s visited me in my room at the castle, but is the first time that he’s brought me from the thorns back to where I now call home.  I ascend the stairs, give a polite nod to the palace guards who salute as I walk by, and rush to my bedroom.

I hadn’t left my window open this morning before I left for the thorns, so Diaval was unable to beat me to my room.  He’s waiting patiently by the window, and for once not making a ruckus.  I open the window, and he flies in.

Diaval circles above my head twice before leaving through my open bedroom door.  I quickly rush to follow him, trying to stave off the panic that is rising in me.  Diaval’s never gone beyond my bedroom before, as it is all too easy for a guard or a maid to make the accurate assumption that he is the raven that escaped two years prior.

“Diaval,” I hiss as I stick my head out of my bedroom. “Get back here.”  But Diaval, perched on a suit of armor, is and always has been fickle, and merely gives a soft caw before heading further down the corridor.

“Diaval what are you doing?” I scold him as I trail after him.  “It’s not safe for you here!”

He does not listen.  I keep trying to convince him to leave the castle as we go, keeping my voice low and an eye out for anyone who may overhear.  A few times, he has to hide behind a suit of armor along the hall, and he childishly slides down the rail of the stairs as we descend to the next floor.  I may have mimicked the action, but there had been no one around to see.

Diaval’s destination is a closed door hidden in the southernmost corner of the second floor on the western side.  He settles on my shoulder as I stop before it.

“Is this where you wanted me to come?” I question him, and he caws softly. “What’s in here?”

But it does not matter if Diaval knows what is in the room, because he does not possess the ability to tell me.  He gestures urgently to the door, and I reach the conclusion that he wants me to enter the room.  I try opening it, and pleasantly find that it yields to my attempts.

The room inside is very dusty; a thick layer covers everything in the room.  Before I can ask Diaval what he had wanted to show me, he soars to the top of a cabinet by the window.  He settles himself on the top of it, and pecks at a corner on the top.

“A cabinet?” I whisper to myself as I approach.  “Diaval, why did you want me to see a cabinet?” I say this part louder once I’m closer.  His response is to lean further over the edge and tap loudly on the glass.

Frighteningly, something rattles on the inside of the cabinet.  Through the glass I could almost swear that I spotted feathers with the sound…

I step closer, and the rattling begins anew, gaining fervor the closer I get to it.  The closer I get, the more I realize that it _is_ feathers that I am seeing brush against the glass inside the cabinet.  I reach my hand out, touch my fingertips to the glass, place my palm against the panes to feel the vibrations of the cabinet…

I wonder to myself, _Why, they look almost as if they’re-_

“Aurora!” A voice cuts sharply across the room, and I whirl around to face King Stefan, my skirts slapping against my shins. “What are you doing in here?”

“Father,” I stumble over my words. “I, I mean, Your Grace, I thought you’d be at the festivities in town.” I curtsy, trying to think of a viable story to tell him.  I don’t look back towards Diaval, only pray that he’s hidden himself.  It would do no good to have my father see him.

“And that is the place I expected you to be at,” He responds curtly.  “Now answer me Aurora; _why are you in here._ ”

“Exploring,” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I was exploring the castle, Your Grace.  There’s still so much of it I have not seen…”

“Yes, well, this room is no place for a lady,” He says. “If you insist on exploring, fine, just stay out of this room.”

“If I may beg your pardon,” I continue despite myself, never knowing when to leave well enough alone, “Why do you say this room is no place for a lady?  Nothing seems to be the matter with it aside from the dust.”

“Because I say so,” He snaps. “And you’ll do as your King says.” He takes a deep breath and continues more calmly, “I believe Prince Phillip came to see you.  You should go greet him.”

“Are these _wings_ , in this cabinet?” I do not move from my position, and King Stefan has an odd expression on his face.

I realize that I reached the accurate conclusion.

“They _are_ ,” I continue. “Aren’t they?”

“Aurora,” He starts, but I rudely cut him off.

“Don’t lie to me,” I snap at him, not wanting to hear his patronizing tone. “They are wings.  Faerie wings.”  I straighten my posture and stare him down.  “What poor Faerie did you savagely rip their wings from?”

He at least has the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

“Maleficent.” He admits at long last, and I cannot help the gasp that escapes my lips.

“Faerie Godmother?” I breathe, holding a hand to my mouth, trying to hold back the tears burning in my eyes.  “You stole her wings?”

“Aurora, you don’t understand-”

“You _stole_ her _wings,_ ” I repeat, my voice at what could be called a roar. “How _could_ you? How _dare_ you steal her wings, as though they are mere trinkets to you!”

“Aurora, I will not have you behaving like this,” He raises his voice as well. “This all began before you were born, and you would not understand.  I am _ordering_ you to stop meddling in affairs you know nothing about!”

“You’re _ordering_ me to stop?” Tears are rolling down my cheeks, and I have ceased my efforts to stop them. “Well, stop _this._ ”

And I muster all my strength, and tip over the cabinet to the ground before he can stop me.  The motion sends Diaval back into the air, squawking his protest, but I can see _no other_ reason for him having brought me here except for this outcome.  The glass shatters against the stone floor, spraying everywhere.

“ _What have you done?!”_ King Stefan all out roars at me, pushing me aside as he goes and lifts the cabinet out of the way to reclaim the wings.  “These _wings_ , that _evil faerie’s wings,_ are the whole reason I’m king!  These wings are your _birthright_ ,child!”

“Unhand them.” I order him.  I care not for the differences in our positions of power as I speak.  “You have _no_ right to those wings, the reason for your being king or not!”

He has not a chance to speak, however, before Diaval is upon him.  Diaval latches his talons into King Stefan’s arm, causing him to cry out and release Faerie Godmother’s wings.  He slams his arm back into a table in the room, dislodging Diaval while I race for the wings.

He sees my rush for them, and tries to grab them before I do.  Just as our fingers scrape the soft down of the feathers though, a blinding light erupts, and the wings vanish.

“What in the world?” I murmur, amazed, staring at my fingers. It must have been some sort of faerie magic, the likes of which I have never seen.

Before I can say or do anything else, pain erupts across my back.  It is unimaginable, beyond anything I have ever felt before.  I collapse, crying out, barely aware of the silver light flying from my fingertips.  The lights flutter in all directions, and I clutch myself, screaming.  I distantly hear King Stefan howling, shouting something, before a breeze is flowing through the room.  Something soft touches my bare arm, bringing confusion through the pain.

_Feathers…?_

“This way, my lady,” A male voice says next to me, before a hand is at my arm, bringing me to my feet and leading me toward the window.  “Yes, good, now up on the ledge.”

I blink through the tears that burned in my eyes, and look down at a face I have not seen in two years.

“Diaval?” I manage around the pain shocking me.  “How in the _world_ are you-”

“Human?” He finishes for me, flashing a grin.  “That would be because of you, my lady.”

“Me?” I ask, amazed. “How?”

“The wings,” He says simply, like it answers everything. “A faerie is not without her wings, or her magic.”

“But I’m not a-”

“Faerie?” He finishes for me once more. “Oh but you are now, my lady.  Come, come! Your father’ll not be indisposed much longer, and we must make our escape.” He gives me a feral grin. “Ready for your first flying lesson, my lady?”

“Most definitely,” I smile, terrified and excited at the same time. “But how can you fly as a human?”

“You’ll have to change me back,” Diaval replies.  “It should be very easy- just imagine me taking the form you want me to and I shall.”  I nod, and imagine the form that Diaval has assumed most of his life.  I click my fingers, coating Diaval in silver light, before he transforms into a sleek black raven.

He takes the lead, soaring from the window, and I follow him once more, taking a leap of faith from the window.

We fly, leaving the castle, the town, behind.

The only thing we take with us is our fond memories of my Faerie Godmother.

Our memories of Maleficent.

_Sometime later, after having settled in and come to terms with my new life as a Faerie, I started to wonder.  Wonder, what if? What if I had found Faerie Godmother’s wings all those years ago on the night of her death? Would it have changed anything? Or would she still have perished?_

_We will never know, but I can at least keep her alive in my heart, where she is still cherished and loved as if she were still alive today._

_And as long as I am alive, Maleficent is alive as well._

* * *

 


End file.
